


Justicar

by Lyaksandra



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyaksandra/pseuds/Lyaksandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before there was Morinth, there was Mirala, and even if she did not have the most normal relationship with her mother, they always were able to communicate well. Though sometimes unable to share a point of view, if the situation called for it, they could see eye to eye. -Worthy of note: Obviously AU. The chapters may not be in chronological order or even a singular timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunion

The pillars of the Justicar temple stretched above me and toward the sky, as if they were arms attempting to reach the stars. As a child, I used to believe they actually did reach the sky. Even nowadays, if I were to lose myself in their magnificence, that childish illusion could at times become real once again. Today, though, my spirit was soaring so high, that not even the tallest point in the temple could reach it. Today, the many decades of sacrifice and effort I had to endure finally reached their culminating point. Today, I became a Justicar.

As I came close to the last pillars in the grand hallway of the temple, a figure emerged from behind one of them—my mother. Her gait was a procession of precisely measured steps, full of purpose and grace. The expression in her face was—as every time we were outside—stoic and dignified. This was the appearance of an exemplary Asari, someone the people could look up to for guidance and counsel. It was the mask she wore in this society of ours, which held appearances in high regard. However, once she was close, I was able to see past the facade.

She placed her hands on my shoulders and held them there, regarding me with her piercing gaze and down her nose. I could feel the barely contained need for contact in the trembling grasp of her hands, and where others would only be able to see the imperious elegance of her face, my eyes were focused on her eyes. To me, the sparkle of unshed tears spoke volumes more than her entire body. It spoke of the joy she felt and of how much she had missed me—just as I had missed her. Sometime in the past I had seen a similar expression in her eyes. She was also proud of me, she was happy to have me back. Alas, it would have been improper etiquette to make a public display of affection in the temple grounds, so we did not. When I joined the Justicar order, I was supposed to sever all ties to my previous life, hugging my mother was supposed to be beyond me now. If only they knew.

In any case, years before we decided that I was to join the Justicar order, my mother taught me how to correctly behave in a social context, as a proper Asari should. And so, I too reached with outstretched arms and placed my hands on her shoulders, perhaps holding onto them with far more strength than was necessary. A friendly embrace was not nearly enough greeting after being separated for about two centuries, but it would have to suffice until we were home, free of the behavioral shackles imposed by our society. I could barely wait to abandon this farce and have a proper reunion with my family.

The faintest smile graced my mother’s lips before she finally spoke to me. “Words cannot begin to express how proud I currently feel, Mirala…”


	2. First Time - Part One

For nearly the whole afternoon I had been reacting in terrible ways toward those around me. When my father asked about the chores I was responsible for, I stood up to him in juvenile defiance, and stared into his eyes as one stares into the face of an enemy. There was fire in my veins, my blood boiled with an incomprehensible rage that seemed to only grow and have no possible release. Upon realizing what I had been doing, I instantly regretted it, which only seemed to build up the frustration inside me. I then ran to the safety of my room.

By the time my little sisters Falere and Rila came to me with an invitation to play, I was practically at my wits end. I felt caged, as if the walls of the house were encroaching on me, gigantic and terrible monsters determined to crush me. Cold sweat had accumulated in large patches all over my clothes, I was cornered, and the walls were relentless in their pursuit. When my mind regained a semblance of its rationality, my hand was already raised—poised to strike—and I could see fear in the eyes of my sisters. There were no monsters in the walls coming after me, _I_ was the monster.

With tears flowing freely down my face I wailed an apology to my sisters and held them both crushingly against my chest. At that moment, I heard the front door being closed, followed by the unmistakable timbre of my mother’s voice. Fear struck me like lightning and in an instant I was out of the house through the back door. Of my two parents, only my mother knew the awful secret I kept, and what would she think when she learned that I just had an outburst like that? I had lashed out against my own family, I had been literally out of my mind, so who was to say it would not escalate? We both knew this day would come, but neither had the slightest idea of how it would be like, and me turning on my family had certainly been the last thing that crossed my mind.

I ran until I was well inside the small patch of forest that grew behind our house, and then I ran some more. I had to be away from my mother, and I only knew of one place where I could hide. As confused and scared as I was, escaping to my favorite spot amidst the woods seemed to be the only sensible idea I had had in the entire day.

There at my favorite place, a small clearing of rocks and haphazardly scattered patches of flowers, I slowly began to feel at ease—if only slightly. The noise of the tiny stream that flowed from under the mossy rocks was a soothing music to my ears. It was almost dark, the sun already lost behind the horizon, so I would have to do without the sight of the beautiful flowers that grew all over the small clearing. Minutes passed like this, with me swallowing air in large gulps and trying to push the nauseating fear down to my stomach, all the while willing the pit at the bottom of it into nonexistence.

Once I had regained a measure of calm, an uninvited memory came into my mind, the young Asari maiden I had seen in the vid screen earlier that day. She was a creature of extreme beauty, so full of grace, I had been enthralled by her the whole time she appeared in the screen. When she disappeared and the spell was broken, I realized I wanted her beauty and grace for myself… quite literally. I had no desire to be with that maiden, nor was I hopelessly infatuated with her, I actually wanted to take her beauty and grace away—tear them out of her and somehow put them inside of me.

After only a few minutes of peace, I became once again caged inside my own mind. I quickly grew desperately frustrated, the forest soon felt like a clutch around my body and the very air I breathed was suffocating me. A scream ripped through my throat, or so it felt, but I heard nothing, not the tiniest cry. Why was my voice gone? What in the name of Athame was happening to me? Desperation took me and power surged from the fire in my veins. Mother had always been keen about my sisters and I being adept at the use of biotics, and yet, what came out of my hands at that moment did not terrify me any less. Tendrils of a biotic energy unlike any I had seen to date flowed from my hands and latched onto every plant surrounding me. They were dark, so dark in fact, that I was able to easily discern them from the darkened background, even though the light of day had almost completely died out.

I could barely see the flowers around me, and the tendrils of dark energy—seemingly draining light instead of radiating it—were no help at all. One thing was apparent, though. Every one of the plants touched by my biotics was obviously drying so much faster than was naturally possible. Panic flooded my already enfeebled mind, and all logic fled from its grasp. When it became apparent that trying to control this… _thing_ coming out of my body was nothing short of futile, I tried to physically tear it away from my skin. Though I smashed my hands and scraped them endlessly against the surface of a large rock, this proved to be a fruitless endeavor as well.

At some point the energy finally dissipated, but by then I was not only exhausted and covered in sweat, but I had also turned my clothes into a bloody mess. There, atop the rock, a blissful darkness finally took me away from the horrors of the day.

It was very dark and cold when I next opened my eyes, and as I tried to lift my head, I was immediately overcome by a disorienting haze. My sight was a blurry mess, but I could feel that I was now lying on my back, and the rock was not hard and cold as one would expect from it. Had I not been utterly exhausted, perhaps I would have tried to remove myself from the strange warmth and softness that lay beneath me. However, I could not, so I just settled for exploring my surroundings with my hands.

I did not make too much progress before one of my hands was gently captured and held in place beside my body. No sooner had I felt a small pang of fear rise within me, a voice reached my ears and eased away all the things that had gone wrong today. My mother had come to me, and there was nothing but care and understanding in her voice.

“Be still, Mirala. I treated your hands, but the wounds are still tender.” As she spoke, her hand began lovingly caressing the length of my crests, and almost instantaneously the most pleasant lethargy took hold of my mind.

Reveling in the dullness and calm that pervaded my senses, I let sleep claim me once more.


	3. First Time - Part Two

That following morning, my mother took the day off from work and drove us to the commercial district to do some shopping. We were on a quest to find the most becoming and flattering dress a young maiden could wear—and of course fill.

By noon, we had already found what we needed. It was a single piece black dress that reached all the way down to my feet. From there, openings on each side ran up my leg to the point just below where the hip meets the thigh. The piece was simple in its appearance, but it fit me in a flattering way, accentuating the measly curves of my adolescent body. Once I was enveloped with the snug cloth, both my body and the dress gained such richness in detail that the image in the mirror seemed quite surreal in my eyes. We also bought a pair of high heeled shoes to match, and then made our way back home.

My mother had a plan for me that she had yet to fully disclose, and while I found her actions a tad disconcerting, I also trusted her implicitly. Therefore, I followed her every instruction to the letter. Even when she prepared the largest breakfast I had ever seen on our table and proceeded to make me eat the entire thing. And from then on, things only got worse. I was thrown into the world of high heel walking with no useful experience whatsoever and a belly full to the bursting point.

Even though the task proved to be more challenging than anything else I had attempted to date—grueling even, if I were to have my saying in the matter—I had to thank the Goddess for making me a quick enough learner. In just a matter of a few of hours, I had mastered the skill of walking on high heels. Of course, anything beyond the slowest walking speed I could muster would send me tumbling down to the floor, but I still felt a degree of pride in myself.

While I tried to push the limits of my slower than slow walking technique, my mother left the room for a moment. When she returned, she was carrying in her hands two of the items my sisters and I greatly coveted. Her makeup box and her bottle of expensive perfume. The former was merely forbidden to us, but the latter was an item that had an almost fabled quality to it, since it was only seen in those rare occasions when my mother attended certain social gatherings. It was no secret that my mother disliked the pompousness of the social gatherings where—in her own words—the supposedly foremost matriarchs of Thessia converged. Therefore, she barely attended any of them.

My eyes were glued to the bottle of perfume, and I barely took notice of my mother’s words. “Of my three daughters, you are the one that most resembles me, Mirala. I am certain that this perfume will suit you just as well as it suits me.”

It was not until I felt my mother’s hand caress my cheek that I finally looked at her face. She smiled and gazed at me tenderly, her eyes full of concern. “If you are unsure of this, perhaps we could find a different way.”

Noticing that she had misunderstood my childish fascination with her bottle of perfume for fear, I quickly tried to amend the situation. “No, it’s just that you brought the expensive perfume.”

She looked at the bottle for a second and then her eyes returned to me, her expression of concern now replaced by what I could only describe as mischief. “Is that so?” She asked in a playful tone. “Well, if you prefer, I can bring the cheap one instead.”

“No!” I practically snapped at her while trying to clumsily seize the bottle with both hands.

After struggling for a short while, my mother began laughing heartily, something she rarely did nowadays. Finding the amusement rather infectious, I could not help but laugh at the—quite frankly—ridiculous battle taking place between us.

It was my mother who finally broke the merry mood a minute later. “Mirala,” She called. There still was a faint smile in her lips.

“Yes, mother?” I replied between barely controlled chuckles.

Right then, before any word even left her mouth, the seriousness that replaced her amused expression silenced every remainder of my amusement. “You do know that I love you, correct?” She asked.

I replied without hesitation. “Yes, of course I do.”

“Do you trust me?”

I simply nodded my response. Of course I trusted my mother with absolute conviction, or at least I had up to this moment. The strange line of questioning and the expression on her face gave pause to my conviction for the first time in my life.

While staring into her piercing blue eyes, I suddenly felt as if this were one of those life changing events they mentioned in romantic vids. I felt as if I were standing—as the stories often went—at the very crossroads of my life. This was where everything I had come to know would change for better or for worse. The point of no return. As irony and its very special brand of humor would have it, not an hour later I would be proven to be quite perceptive.

My mother pulled a chair close and sat down on it, then she placed in front of her the small table that was beside it. Patting the top with her hand, she smiled. “Come here.”

Once I had taken my place in front of her, she opened the makeup box and began appraising its contents. She then regarded my face for a second, and without any other preamble, she set to work on it.


	4. First Time - Part Three - Finale

Once my mother was finally done with my makeup, I had been transformed into a completely different person. As I stood there in front of the mirror, I was helpless to contain the incredulity rising within me. Not only was I surprised by my transformation, but also by how effortless it all had seemed. Bearing witness to the styling and fashion skills my mother had displayed when turning a waifish teenager into an attractive and nubile one, furthered the admiration I felt toward her. At that moment, I became—without a doubt in my mind—the most striking creature I had ever seen. The young maiden that appeared in the vid I had watched just the morning before could not even begin to compare.

As I thoroughly examined myself in the mirror, my mother finally disclosed her plan. She calmly began detailing every step of her scheme while placing the different makeup products back into their ornate box. We were to attend one of the social meetings she so fervently avoided. There, we would find a particular Asari Matron, a person that according to my mother belonged to a select group of people she so affectionately referred to as _the worst manner of filth to ever grace the surface of our beautiful world_. This Matron was a slaver. She was, however, not a common slaver. Her trade consisted of abducting young Asari maidens from our very home-world, which she then proceeded to sell as sexual slaves to the corrupt and powerful of the galaxy. A traitor to all Asari, to The Goddess Athame herself, and to every other Asari religion, philosophy, belief, or law. Or so my mother felt. At least the Batarians had the excuse of having a society and a government that condoned slavery. Furthermore, they employed these _involuntary_ workers as manual labor. For some reason, in my mother’s opinion this was a nobler fate. I found that to me it was quite difficult to digest either idea.

In order to sate the unique desires I had begun to develop in recent days, I was to rid Thessia of this blight. The thought of taking the life of another sentient being—one of my own species at that—should have revolted me like it did most anyone else. It did not. Also, my mother assured me that once I had let loose my darkest impulses, all the anxiety that had been building up in my mind would simply evaporate. This thought held more significance in my mind than the life of another. Especially of the kind the Matron belonged to. More than actually believing in this promise of release to be true, I fervently _hoped_ it was so. Still, I wondered about how I was supposed to approach this matron, this criminal kingpin that was going to be more heavily guarded than any other Matriarch attending the gathering. Well, the answer to that was about to put me through the most scandalous realization of my short life.

Coincidentally, this Matron also enjoyed satisfying her baser needs with the tender flesh of her young prey. This, my mother described as an unexpected slice of good fortune. By the time that comment was made, the understanding of what the next step of my mother’s plan entailed was dawning on me with the gentleness of a slap to the face. I therefore failed miserably at perceiving any good fortune in my current situation, and failed even more miserably at keeping my composure when faced with the prospect of becoming bait.

My mind reeled with a mixture of surprise and fear while attempting to assimilate what my mother had just proposed. I looked at myself in the mirror once more, and found that I was no longer transfixed by my own appearance, but horrified by the implications it carried. To think that my mother had gotten this dress and these shoes, which made my legs seem longer and more shapely. That she had used her makeup to beautifully emphasize the color of my eyes and the random patterns of the freckles that adorned my face, and it had all been to this end. To place her own daughter in harm’s way.

The fear must have been clearly displayed across my face, for not a second later my mother kneeled beside me and captured both my hands with hers, gingerly rubbing them in an attempt to soothe my nerves. I, of course refused to look at her, instead keeping my eyes fixated in the mirror. Whatever was she thinking with this plan of hers, I could not fathom. Did she think me capable of subduing this Asari who was centuries ahead of me in both knowledge and experience? When I asked, no response was forthcoming. The very last step of the plan could not be revealed yet. My mother believed me to be unprepared, so I had to be left with no other choice but to act the plan out, lest I began having second thoughts about the whole ordeal. In order for me to actually carry out the task to its bitter consequences, she believed I had to be set in a collision course with my target before revealing the culmination of her design.

Two hours later we were already at the party, my mother reluctantly having us mingle with the attendees. It seemed that _our_ guest of honor had not yet arrived, and my mother, left at a loss as to what else to do, chose to behave as it was expected in these gatherings. She introduced me to several Asari who conversely introduced themselves as _friends_ of my mother. I however had never even heard their names before that evening, so a realization came to me then. Either one of two things was happening: These people were conferring themselves attributions that they did not merit, or my mother was practically an antisocial. Having heard from her own lips the stories about people she had been fond of in the past made me inclined to believe it was the former, and that these people were merely being hypocritical. Even if their reasons escaped my understanding, I quickly learned the finer points of _party mingling_ on my own. If they smiled, I returned an even wider smile, and if they complimented my looks, I made a point of practically being effusive over theirs.

After some time, my mother left me alone, and by then I was already moving seamlessly from one group of conversers to the next. Even though I had never been a social creature, this was something that came easy to me. I was ecstatic, pushing the limits of my newfound ability at reading people and being able to trick them in believing they were getting what they wanted from me. Patterns began emerging in my mind, and a certain logic revealed itself behind some of their behaviors. Somehow it all made sense in my head, and it was as straightforward as my mathematics classes back in school. It did not take long for me to begin categorizing these people into simple, generalized groups. I stopped caring about learning their names, and felt more stimulated by the prospect of discovering whether they belonged into the category that wanted to have sexual intercourse with my mother, or the ones that wanted to have it with me.

While I played my games, a thought crossed my mind. People were very much going through their lives as livestock does, spending their time fattening themselves through the labors of others, and merely awaiting for someone above them to come and reap the benefits. Then, the cycle would begin anew. With that idea came the realization that I could be the one to reap without ever having to give back…

My musings were interrupted by a hand that took hold of my shoulder with far more strength than I was comfortable with. When I turned around to face the interloper and dispense a good scolding, I found my mother’s face. Her expression appeared far more strained and stern than I recalled ever seeing it. She stared directly into my eyes, then grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face an Asari Matron that was walking across the main hall. She placed her lips close to my ear and uttered just three words. “She is here.”

An uncomfortable cold ran down my back and settled at the bottom of my belly. The time to act had come, and I could not help the feeling of dread that seeped into my thoughts. However, as much as I hated to feel afraid, I would soon hate my mother even more. Without me asking, she whispered the remainder of her plan into my ear. My mind reeled at her words, and even though they had been few and simple enough, for a moment I rejected understanding them. I was supposed to meld with the Matron.

A strange mixture of panic and disgust quickly overcame me, all else forgotten for the time being. It was like the tide washing off footprints from the sand. My first melding was going to be enforced by my mother and by circumstance. This could not be happening to me. Such an intimate experience, and to have it with someone whom I did not even know, and who on top of that happened to be a despicable criminal. The mere thought made me feel dirty, as if I had been already soiled by this matron’s mind merely by thinking of melding with her. Even if one were to consider melding as something to be had for fun, who would even contemplate someone as ugly and so much older for such an act! For the love of Athame, even her freckles were all in the wrong place, not to mention those gaudy markings she was wearing.

When my mother turned around to leave me alone and free to act, I followed with such haste that I practically tripped with my own foot. My hand barely managed to capture the flowing cloth of her dress, but I held to it as if it were a lifeline. To anyone witnessing the scene, I must have appeared like a petulant child blackmailing her mother with the threat of throwing a tantrum. I tugged at her dress and searched her eyes with my own, pleading to be spared this shame. When my mother finally turned around and looked at me, I found no sympathy in her face. Her eyes were cold and detached, and her lips were pressed into a thin and cruel line. Gone were the gentle smile and loving eyes she reserved only for me, replaced by an expression that left me awestruck.

I obviously felt a deep sense of betrayal, forsaken as I was by my own mother in my moment of most need. But above all else, I felt afraid of her for the first time in my life. Her expression was full of disdain, of a fury that I had never realized was there, and all of it was tempered by limitless confidence and regal composure. It was the most beautiful and most horrifying thing I had ever seen. I was lost in the depths of her blue eyes, and for a moment it was as if she were able to see through me—all my secrets bared, every sinful act put to judgment. The overwhelming sensation of vulnerability made me feel as if I were an insect in the presence of The Goddess Athame herself.

When she spoke, I lost all sense of the people around us. “Would you rather have your sisters harmed, then?”

A faint realization materialized in the back of my mind. This was why my mother’s love was so dear, so special to me. I had never seen her share such a moment with either of my sisters or my father. When my mother specifically addressed me for any matter that was meaningful for either of us, her focus was solely on me. Nothing and no one else mattered to her in that moment. She even knew exactly which words would cut the deepest into my being. Thus, every time she spoke like this, I listened with the utmost attention.

Could I sacrifice my sisters for my own selfishness? Could I see harm come to my beloved Rila, my precious Falere? No. Of course the answer to both of those questions was a resounding no, and yet… I faltered. Shame pulled my gaze to the ground. How could I look my mother in the eyes if I was unable to make a choice that should have been easy to make? Why was I even conflicted over this? Surely, I was just clinging to the slight hope that there might be a third option, one where everyone could get what they wanted. Every person hoped for an optimal solution to their troubles, did they not? It was reasonable to assume I was no different.

My mother’s voice interrupted my thoughts once more. Perhaps she realized how conflicted I was with the choices offered, but if she did, she chose not to reproach my selfish behavior, and instead she offered me that other option.

“Mirala, can you see yourself living a secluded life in a convent? Can you imagine being unable to see your sisters ever again. Can you see yourself living a life where it is forbidden to run free in that forest patch behind the house you enjoy so much? Mirala, can you see yourself _caged_?”

I stared at my mother with eyes so wide that even I could feel the strain on my eyelids. Never before had I considered such repercussions to my _condition_ , but now, now it seemed very obvious. The knowledge that I could pose a danger to others was not alien to me, and how did society deal with dangerous individuals? They were imprisoned, put in jails, hidden from the eyes of others. This convent my mother spoke of, it surely was nothing more than a socially appropriate term for a cage. Me, living like an animal? Never!

My whole body was suddenly flooded with a raging strength, and I clenched my fists so tightly that my fingers hurt from the strain. At last I found the courage to look up at my mother’s face, anger and determination fueling my willpower. I was ready to face her imperious gaze, but when I found her eyes, I saw nothing but love and kindness in them. For a moment, I was startled at the realization of just how well my mother knew me. Everything she had done and said had been for my sake. She did not have to wear her mask of The Goddess to see through me. That my mother knew me better than I knew myself seemed to just be a constant truth in my life.

At the time, when my mother had opened her mouth, I actually hoped she would offer me a perfect option. Life was obviously not that perfect when it came to choices. Still, she gave me exactly the motivation I needed, and even though I resented her slightly, one day not far in the future I would come to be grateful for it.

I spun on my heel and began a purposeful stride toward the Asari Matron that was to be the first melding partner in my life. As I approached her and was able to perceive more clearly the features of her face, I tried to hide the growing disgust I felt behind my smile. Alas, I was not entirely certain about how successful such an endeavor could be.

Today, I had not only received a new appearance and had been reborn as a different creature, but I also received a new name: Morinth. This was the name my mother had chosen for me to use in order to protect our family with anonymity. At first, I felt anxious when I began chatting with the group of Asari, but soon enough all my fears dissipated when I was able to seamlessly blend into the conversation she was having with the pair of matrons. All the culture my mother had poured in me, all my academic knowledge, and everything I had learned tonight became a tool within easy reach of my mind. Until now, I had never looked with pride upon the fact that in my life—short as it was—I had exceled in every task I had set to accomplish. Now, however, I was realizing just how far ahead from the common folk I was. While we chatted, I gradually began isolating my prey from the other two asari, and managed to succeed after a short time. Once I had her all for myself, I began steering the conversation toward more personal topics, as if I were so very interested in her life. Predictably, she began regaling me with stories about her achievements, and I replied with awed stares and what I thought could be perceived as coy smiles.

Being able to peer into someone’s thoughts and give them direction was an intoxicating sensation. It filled me with a power, a sense of control and certainty I had never felt before. It was nothing short of exciting, and soon enough I began making physical contact with this woman I perceived as nothing but disgusting both in mind and body. I ran a furtive hand along her forearm, touched my fingertips to hers when she rested her hand on any surface, I was eager to be escorted into some private area, motivated by the raising heat that pervaded my entire body. Fortunately, by the time this warmth became too much to bear, when it seemed to pool below my belly in an eagerness ready to explode, the Asari Matron finally ended her vapid storytelling.

When she invited me to accompany her into a place less _crowded_ , I clearly heard the conceit in her voice and saw the pride in her eyes. She was certain of her conquest, certain that I was yet another impressionable maiden she could take to bed and then discard like so much trash—or perhaps sell to the highest bidder. A beast, a monster, that was what this Asari was, and I would be the one to rid the galaxy of this cancer. That made me feel even more motivated than I was.

Once we were alone, she pulled me harshly against her body, both her hands taking hold of my buttocks, nails digging into my flesh. Her putrid lips came close to my ear, and she whispered words that to me were no more than incompetent attempt at being sensual. “Come here, my little whore. I will make a woman of you yet.”

I was beyond caring about her insults or her claims, or even her audacity at marring my skin with the twisted brambles she called hands. It was time. I closed my eyes, and when I next opened them, all color had drained from the world. Such a sight startled me at first—what with my lack of any previous experience—but I willed myself to ignore it as I could afford no delays of any kind. My mother had suggested that to make the matter easier, I made physical contact with the area where the center of the nervous system resided: The head. Thus, I reached up with both hands, capturing with my fingers the sides of the Matron’s face and pulling it down toward me. Barely did I notice that she actually presented a fair measure of resistance to this, her hands now away from my rear end and otherwise occupied pushing against my shoulders.

The very moment I attempted to reach toward her nervous system with my biotics, my mind immediately found itself assaulted by the Matron’s emotions and sensations. Confusion, surprise, hubris and lust seemed to dominate the spectrum at first, but soon they receded and were replaced by just two. Fear and pain. For reasons I could not fathom, those two sensations became like a fiery beacon to me. There was no time to learn, no time to analyze, so I simply allowed myself to be carried by the flow of the experience. My mother had given me one simple directive to carry once the melding was initiated. Dig, as deep and as quickly as I could, so I did.

While I navigated the intricacies of the Matron’s mind, the fear and the pain became prevalent. One day I would learn to trick a brain into thinking the experience was not so, but for now I simply ignored it, focusing instead on the sensations that had begun emanating from the place between my legs. Naturally, at my age I already knew about sexuality, but I had never actually felt this much arousal. Guided by the Asari’s pain and fear, I soon reached a place that seemed to be full of heat and light. It was as if being caught in the midst of a fiercely burning flame without actually being scorched by it. There, my arousal reached its peak, a loud gasp escaping my lips as my body reacted to the nigh overwhelming pleasure that pervaded my entire being. By now, every compunction I felt about performing such an intimate act with this Asari became non-existent. No longer did I care about her unattractive facial features and the terrible arrangement of her freckles, or her old body adorned by lines that had all the wrong curvature. None of it mattered anymore. My apprehension was now gone, replaced by something that outshined every pleasure known to any sapient creature in the galaxy, whether it was decadent or sublime. It was more intoxicating than the most intense orgasm, more delicious than the most exquisite delicacy, and more radiant and beautiful than the most perfect of sunsets. And so, I allowed myself to be utterly consumed by the meld.

She had loved once, this Matron. It had been the best epoch of her life, or so it appeared to be in hindsight. Every memory of that period was as bright as a star, and all of them together were nothing but a pale shadow of what it was for me to hold the flame of her life within my hands. I also found the memories of all the young maidens she had touched with her vile hands and kissed with her rotten lips. All the lies she had uttered, the lives she had ruined, destroyed, and then tossed away like garbage. At first, she had felt guilt and regret, but soon they had disappeared, and instead she began feeling pleasure from the control, the power she could exert over the forsaken lives of her victims. And yet, none of that could compare to what I felt right now. Not her greed, not her selfish satisfactions, or even the pain and fear I was putting her through.

Asari believe that every idea and every action can send ripples across the entire galaxy, and that every creature is connected to this whole through their mind. This concept gave birth to the phrase _Embrace Eternity_ that Asari use when they join minds with any other being. By melding with this Asari Matron I learned that I could never contribute to this great oneness, I would never become a part of Eternity. However, I alone could take from it. Therefore, even if I would never be able to form a part of Eternity, I could become _it_. Every mind I subtracted from the whole, meant I could add one more piece to myself. And so, I did.

Mentally, I closed my fingers and snuffed the light of the tiny ember that had been resting on the palm of my hand. There would be no Eternity for either me or the Matron that now lay at my feet, and with the deed done, my mind was in a haze—nothing I could think to say seemed appropriate. So, I said the only thing that at least seemed to fit the occasion.

“Find peace in the embrace of The Goddess.”


End file.
